It is raining lightly. It will be eleven o'clock at night. I am waiting at Bhurghata bus stand. It is an unknown bus stand in Kushtia. Silent silence all around. The call of the fox came from afar. Dogs and foxes can be heard stopping. As there is no electricity in this village, it is called night after evening. A semi-dirty hurricane is burning at the bus counter. I came to the counter and did not get any ticket. But the man at the counter is kind. Said I will make an arrangement. Make a temporary seat with a piece of foam on the engine next to the driver. I can sit on it if I want. I will go to Dhaka. Talking about going to Dhaka, I sat next to the driver and went next to the minister. The bus will be another hour late. A tea shop can be seen in the distance. There is a kerosene bottle of thick salt burning. The streets are muddy. I walked through the mud to the tea shop. Shaky shop made of bamboo. There are only two benches inside the shop. Old shopkeeper. Raise a kettle over the stove. Turn off the stove. At my request he lit the stove. I'm waiting for tea.
Suddenly a man appeared. Motasota is tall. Seeing the thick mustache, it is not difficult to understand that the man is a truck driver. Now the thick mustache usually still keeps the truck driver. Lightning flashes across the sky. The man looked outside and said, "It was such a night!"
The people of the village are usually storytellers. Talk more than necessary. It is dangerous to indulge them. When indulged, it removes the ear bugs. I didn't feel good at night alone. So I agreed with him and said,
‘What day are you talking about?’
‘Last year’s incident. One morning at this tea shop. I see a boy sitting with his head down. The uncle of the tea shopkeeper said, the boy has come to Char. We need another job. '
It looks like a sack that encloses with a drawstring. Maybe he came home angry. I fell in love. Because one day I also failed the metric and ran away from home in shame. Later I found out that the boy's name was Asad. Round face. The color of the skin is pale. Walking is like myalok. Anyway, I left the boy in my truck. I will help. I go to town with raw materials. He goes to town with me. I moved from the city to the village again in the morning.
One day at noon. The sun is shining. We are resting at a hotel in this station after eating rice. At the end of the rest, I got in the truck from the hotel. I thought I would leave the truck in the back garage. I got in the truck and started the engine. I will go back a little and get on the road. Suddenly a scream. My hand went off the steering wheel. I got down from the truck when I heard people screaming. The body of a stunned man is lying under the wheels of the truck. The body is no longer recognizable. It looks like a lump of meat. Blood and flesh have become one. The yellow head is shaking. The incident was hot. There is no shadow anywhere. Assad was lying under the car to rest in the shade after lunch. He fell asleep with a piece of paper. That sleep was the last sleep of my life. There was no condition to take him to the hospital.
After the postmortem, it was night. I made a wooden coffin, put on the shroud and took the body away. The destination is Assad's village home. Many people have forbidden to take the body without performing Janaza. If you want to perform Janaza, you have to wait till morning. I put the coffin on the back of the truck seat.
From evening onwards the sky gradually began to become cloudy. Suddenly lightning flashed across the sky. I started the journey with a brave Kamla Dulal. Pure black night. The light of the headlights is moving forward through the darkness. Nothing is visible next to Raita. There is no flickering light in the distant village. The ever-familiar road seemed awkward. A white dot appeared in the distance. The point is slowly getting bigger. At one point it seemed like a man was walking. Walking in front of the car. However, the walking posture is familiar to me. I blew the horn. No, he will not give up. I looked at Dulal. He seems to have understood something. He went to the back and opened the lid of the coffin. I looked at him and said, the coffin is empty. I said, sit tight. After that I increased the speed of the car to one hundred. Pressing the horn like crazy. But I did not see any sign of giving side in the front. Gradually the shape began to grow. At one point it seemed that the car was covered with glass. Shrouds are worn by girls like sarees. Then it slowly turned its face and looked at us. There is nothing to say. There is a clot of blood. Two holes in the middle of that blood. There is no end to the beginning of the hole. I stopped the car. I also turned off the headlights of the car. All dark. I looked through the window and saw that I had entered a market. I opened the car door and called. I called a guard and told him we wanted to stay with you at night. They arranged to stay. Dulal I got out of the car and went to a shop to spend the night. I didn't tell them we had coffins with us. '
I told him, "I didn't open the coffin before I got out of the car."
"I saw it."
"There were bodies."
‘No. There are no bodies. The body is gone. However, many people see a person wearing a shroud walking in front of the car while passing that road.
My car is gone. I got up with a tea bill. I looked at the man and saw that he was also getting up.
He said, "Sir, you don't believe me."
I said to make him happy, ‘Since you saw it. I don't believe it! '
The people of the village tell stories in this way. I see no reason to believe these stories. I came in front of the counter and saw the car parked.
(The next Part Of this Story will Be Published soon.Comment down About How much You enjoyed the Part-1 of this real Story And if you like this, You can subscribe me)